“Why did you do that?” I hate it when I people ask that, especially if it’s obvious I’ve just done something infuriating. Clearly, if I’ve just messed something up, it was an accident, a fault in my thinking, or an oversite. I am rarely in the mood to explore any of those things.
“Where was it last time you saw it?” If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost. I wouldn’t be looking for it now if I could help it.
Who put this here? Bud and I are retired and live alone. Bud often asks this question. The answer is obvious. If he didn’t put it there, it had to be me.
A Irishman is walking along the beach. He finds a bottle and rubs it; out comes a genie. The genie agrees to grant him three wishes.
The Irishman says, “I’ve been walking on this beach all day. I’m so thirsty. I wish I could have a mug of beer that never ends.” Poof, a frosty mug of beer appears. He drinks it down and sure enough, it fills up again.
The Irishman drinks that mug down. And it magically refills. He drinks again; it refills again. By this time he’s beginning to feel the effects, but the genie is also getting a big irritated. He’s tapping his feet, looking at his watch, etc., and finally the genie says, “I got places to be. Have you decided on your other two wishes?”
The Irishman, staggering around by this time, looks at the mug as it fills up again, thinks for a minute, and says, “Yeah, just give me two more of these.”
One proud day, Louie acquired a bedraggled, old gray mule. The poor beast had obviously been”rode hard and put up wet.” It was tormented by flies, particularly in spots where harness had rubbed. Nonetheless, Louie was enamored of the sad beast pastured in his brother Don’s empty cow lot adjacent to our barn. The lot had gnawed down to the last blade of grass by its previous occupants. The only amenity available to the mule was a half barrel of water. Don and Louie spent some time spraying the mule for flies, which had to be a relief. Don went about his business assuring Louie they’d get old gray some hay tomorrow. A seed was planted.
Old Gray ate all the grass he could reach through the fence. Louie spent the rest of the afternoon pulling grass and delivering it by the handful to the grateful mule. Even Boogereater and Jamie got caught up in the exercise for a while.
About dusk, Daddy came home and scattered out hay for his stock and went on his busy way. Remembering Don’s intentions, Louie opened his cow pen gate and turned Old Gray into Daddy’s feed lot to get at the hay. Delighted at the opportunity to chow down, Old Gray kicked at Daddy’s cows to get them out of his way. Daddy heard the ruckus and came hurrying back, only to find his cows scattered and Old Gray munching happily.
Daddy shouted at Louie.” Get that mule out of here. He’s gonna hurt my cows!” He handed Louie a block of hay to toll the mule out and waved a stick at Old Gray. Reluctantly, Old Gray allowed himself to be led back into Don’s cow lot. Glad to have settled that problem, Daddy secured his own gate and went about his business
Louie was not to be denied that easily. He scooped up a generous portion of Daddy’s hay and tossed it over the fence to Old Gray. The happy mule tore into it with enthusiasm. It had probably been a long time since he’d such a rich meal. Satisfied with his day’s work, Louie went home for his own supper.
The next day when Daddy went out to throw hay to his cows, he found Louie and Old Gray waiting for him. The scattered remains of yesterday’s hay lay about them on the ground. Daddy warned Louie not to let Old Gray in his pasture.
Louie waited patiently for Daddy to put out the hay before climbing over the fence. “Louie, don’t be climbing my fence. You’ll tear it up. What in the hell are you doing?”
Louie scooped up a few blocks of hay and tossed them over the fence to Old Gray. “Old Gray ain’t got no hay. You don’t care Old Gray have hay?”
Daddy knew he wasn’t going to win this round. “Oh hell no, man! That’s what I bought it for.”
Nutsrok 